


Discordance

by Faintdegree



Series: Discordance - Modern AU [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Professors, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25814494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faintdegree/pseuds/Faintdegree
Summary: Adahlena Lavellan meets an intriguing stranger going by the name Fen'Harel online, who quickly becomes her closest confidant as she starts a new job as a professor at Skyhold University. Despite her success, her new colleague, Solas Fen, is proving to be a thorn in her side.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus
Series: Discordance - Modern AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2040705
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Discordance

The museum is quiet, despite it being a Saturday morning in Val Royeaux. 

Adahlena sits alone in the _‘Elves of Halamshiral’_ exhibit, now utterly void of visitors. There have been maybe three people since she started her shift at nine that morning. A new low.

She’s heard the exhibits overhead narration play at least thirty times by this point (she’d be lying if she said she couldn’t quote it word for word.) 

_The elves of Halamshiral were brutish in their fight against Orlais._ The soft-spoken voice says. _In their attempt of an uprising, they killed many chevaliers._

Her insides squirm with the inaccuracy of it.

She checks her watch: It’s nearing noon, she might be able to sneak off for an early break. 

As if sensing her check, a couple peeks their head around the entry door. Two women who wear high ruffled collars and fashionable jackets. They glance at her, and she tries to not pay mind to the way their eyes widen in shock at her vallaslin.

“Bonjour!” She says, forcing a smile. So close to her break, she’d been so close.

“Bonjour.” One says, hesitant. “Est-ce l'exposition sur les elfes?”

Adah nods. 

They pay their entry fee, placing the money on her chair and not into her open and waiting palm. 

She should be used to this by now; she’s been working at the museum for many years. But every whispered _Rabbit,_ every passive-aggressive action against her makes her blood boil.

“Enjoy the exhibit.” She says in common.

The women walk away, and she actively ignores the way their faces scrunch up at the displays. 

They are looking at a blade of an Emerald knight, shattered and barely pieced back together. They lean in close against the glass, breath fogging as they read the placard Adah has written;

_The Emerald Knights were the elvhen protectors of the Dales. Their weapons designed for quick skirmishes against chevaliers who would push against their borders. This blade would have been wielded by a knight, circa 2:10-2:20 Glory age._

One frowns to the other, and they whisper something that she strains to hear.

It’s less than ten minutes later that they are leaving, animatedly talking about the barbaric nature of the elves, how _cruel_ they had been to the poor chevaliers of old. It takes all of Adah’s strength not to follow them and explain the barbaric practice of Chevalier’s graduation in the alienages. 

But they are gone, and the effort and subsequent shitshow from her boss wouldn’t make it worth it. But the temptation sits in her stomach all the same.

Instead, she grabs her phone and opens her _Courier_ messaging app.

_Fen’harel 11:40_

_Attached Image: 1_

He’s sent her a picture of an old tattered book; it’s spine nearly falling apart as he cradles it gently with one hand. The cover bore a frankly insulting depiction of Dalish elves, a group covered in dirt and blue woad nestled amongst alien trees and foliage. 

_Fen’harel 11:41_

_You would think given their vast access to knowledge that tevinter magisters would be able to write better drivel than this._

**_Vhenadahl 12:01_ **

**_I read that for my MA. It was interesting in as much as it was wrong._ **

**_Have you gotten to the part where Magister Tirinius tries to argue that the Evanuris were just early humans? 🙄_ **

_Fen’harel 12:10_

_No, but I am not eager to._

**_Vhenadahl 12:11_ **

**_Then I’m sure you’ll love when he backs up his claims with the fact no statues or paintings remain of ancient elves with their ears intact._ **

**_Reminds me, actually, of these two women I had to deal with this morning._ **

_Fen’harel 12:16_

_Incredible, truly. I thought they were above such nonsense._

_Oh?_

_What happened?_

She explains her anger and frustration at the situation. Careful to not reveal _too much_ about her location or work. They have been dancing this thin line of anonymity for a month or so now. Both wordlessly agreeing to be as vague as possible about who they really are. 

Sometimes she nearly slips, usually in frustration with her work or the visitors. Sometimes she almost tells him how close a new find is to her, and how eager she is to volunteer. They know each other's ages, roughly. She’s told him she’s in her thirties and him, his late thirties. They know that they are both elvhen, though Adah isn’t sure if he is Dalish or not. 

Adah sees him typing, stopping, and then starting again and smiles to herself.

_Fen’harel 12:30_

_I am sorry that you had to deal with their ignorance._

**_Vhenadahl 12:30_ **

**_It’s fine._ **

**_I mean, it’s not fine._ **

**_But what am I going to do? Lose my job just because two stuck up orlesians insulted me? I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction._ **

_Fen’harel 12:31_

_All the same, you should not have to deal with it._

_You deserve better than to be defined by the shape of your ears._

**_Vhenadahl 12:32_ **

**_I know._ **

**_Thank you. I know I’m not the only one who has to deal with it. I just wish I could stop it somehow._ **

She hears the telltale hurried clack of heels against the tile and looks up to see her boss marching towards her. Adah hurries to stash her phone in her pocket.

“Morrigan,” Adah says with a nervous smile.

Morrigan’s lips form a tight line. She splays her fingers out as her fingertips press together. 

“Adahlena, I would like a word in my office.” 

They walk through one of the staff only doors to the backrooms, the concrete a stark difference to the polished wood and gold gilt in the museum proper. Morrigan leads, her purple pencil skirt hardly a hindrance as she climbs the metal stairs. She doesn’t say anything as they ascend, and anxiety pools in Adah’s stomach. 

  
  
  


Fired. The exhibition has been a flop. Or, how had Morrigan put it? The Orlesians had lost interest, and so the exhibition was being packed up and likely moved early. Instead of sending her to another exhibit, they had let her go.

Morrigan at least looked a little apologetic over the whole thing.

“I tried to get you more time,” Morrigan states, with a hint of a frown. “The director believes you have outstayed your welcome, however.”

She feels like Morrigan has slapped her in the face. She wants to scream, she wants to kick over her chair and call her an asshole. Several years of education, a PhD, a number of reports and journals under her belt, countless digs, and for what? 

To be some schmuck who just takes peoples money to see relics of her people? To have her work ignored, warped or even uncredited simply because she’s an elf? To be fired because she wasn’t attracting enough attention, like a worn out, run-down attraction?

But she knows it’s not _really_ Morrigan’s fault. That she is just the messenger for a Director who she’d never met. 

Adah gets a week's notice, enough time to organise her things and to take the exhibit down. Every word is like a stab in the gut. She wants desperately to scream into the void, to cry, to grab her work and run as fast as she can.

Instead, she charges through the museum in search of Merrill. It takes Adah twenty minutes to find her sitting alone in the art gallery, hidden away by the entrance of the ‘Impressionists of Orlais’ room. She looks like she’s been crying and Adah sees red.

“We have to do something. It’s not right!” Adahs voice reverbs against the walls, and Merrill winces. 

“Shh!” Merrill stands and presses her palm against Adahs mouth, looking around wildly for any eavesdropping humans. “Do you want someone to accuse us of conspiring?”

Adah shrugs her off and whispers. “Okay, but we can’t stand by and just let them fire us after everything we’ve done, Merrill!”

Tears prickle at the corners of Merrill’s eyes, and she bites her lip to stop the flow. “Adah I don’t think there’s anything we can do. If we go higher up do you really think they will listen to us? We’re elves, and more than that we’re _Dalish.”_

Adah slips her hand in Merrills and squeezes it lightly. “I know, but we have to _try.”_

Merrill nods and sniffles. “You’re right. I’m just so tired of fighting. I thought that maybe this…” She trails off, and Adah pulls her in for a hug.

“None of that. We’re not giving up so easily. I’ll ask Morrigan tomorrow where the artefacts are going, and maybe we can go with them. Maybe we can petition for another museum to take them in, one that respects us. We both know people, we might be able to pull some strings.”

Merrill nods against Adah’s shoulder. “Okay.”

“But,” Adah says, her anger slowly fading. “We should still cover all our bases, okay? We’ll look for jobs tonight. We’re going to be okay.”

Adah pulls back, and cups Merills face in her hands, wiping away the spilt tears with her thumbs. Merill gives her best smile. “Okay, we’re going to be okay.”

That night Adah and Merrill order takeout from the Antivan restaurant beneath their apartment. They rush through their food, boot up their shared computer and start the agonising search for a job. 

Merrill is the first to look, often distracted by gifsets of puppies and flowers. Adah browses her _Courier_ group chat. 

One of her professions, Bram Kenric, introduced her to an app for those interested in history. He had been so kind to Adah through her years of study, always checking up on her despite their lack of classes together. She’d been lonely, the only elf in all of her classes. Ignored by almost everyone, Adah had struggled to make friends. Most students were children of nobility, taught to look at elves with disdain or to see them as servants and nothing more. She lost count of the number of times she had been called _Rabbit_ or asked to fetch things. When they’d noticed her vallaslin, they had muttered insults under their breath and she knew they thought of her as primitive. 

She sifts through the pictures of digs, news articles, selfies. She heart reacts to someone's cat picture; it’s fluffy little toes peeking out from a blanket with the caption _‘Socks.’_ Merrill coos when Adah shows her and demands she tell the poster that their cat is adorable and squishy. She laughs along with some archaeological puns, some jokes that make her roll her eyes.

 _Fen’harel_ posts a few news articles about new tech to help out with future digs and gushes about them in his usual factual manner. A few people comment underneath, eager to try and get their hands on it. 

She opens her direct messages.

**_Vhenadahl 19:45_ **

**_Any update on that awful book?_ **

_Fen’Harel 20:01_

_Apologies for the late reply, I was reading said dreadful book._

_I passed the explanation you mentioned earlier, by the way._

_How this Magister even has a PhD is beyond me._

**_Vhenadahl 20:02_ **

**_Right? It’s awful and I’m ashamed I even considered it relevant for my MA._ **

_Fen’Harel 20:03_

_I suppose we all make mistakes in the pursuit of knowledge 😝_

**_Vhenadahl 20:03_ **

**_Is_ **

**_Is that an emoji? From_ you?**

_Fen’harel 20:04_

_My colleague is insisting I use them._

_He says that they are the glyphs of our age, a new tool in storytelling._

_I’m not yet sure how I feel about them._

**_Vhenadahl 20:04_ **

**_I think they can get across a feeling that words alone can’t_ **

**_That and there are some pretty funny ones out there._ **

**_👁👄👁 for example, is a favourite of mine._ **

_Fen’harel 20:05_

_I am too concerned to ask what that means._

**_Vhenadahl 20:06_ **

**_It can mean whatever you like_ **

Merrill leans back in their shared computer chair and rubs the heels of her palms into her eyes.

“I think,” She says with a yawn. “That I have applied for every single position in every single historical job in Thedas.” 

Adah steps up from where she sits cross-legged on the cold wood flooring, stretches out her spine and sighs as it pops. “Oh yeah? Save any for me?”

“Actually,” Merrill clicks through a few tabs, Adah spies more than one dedicated to gifs of softly swaying flowers. “I did keep a few I think would be good for you. Here.”

Adah rests her head on Merrill’s shoulder and scans the screen.

There are several jobs going on a few digs, some of which Adah recognises from her group chat. One is for a consultant on a TV set for a show about forbidden love between an Emerald knight and a poor Orlesian peasant. Adah makes a note of that.

The one that _truly_ catches her eye is for a teaching position at the esteemed University of Skyhold. It’s quickly become part of the top ten universities of Thedas, rivalling the University of Orlais in the scores that it produces. 

The position is for an Archaeology and Ancient History professor, focusing on Pre Chantry and elvhen history. It promises to support research, as well as funding for any future excavations. Adah is sure her heart has stopped at the idea of it. 

“I think you’d be good at this.” Merrill points to the teaching position. “It’s where I studied and it’s very progressive.” 

“Yeah?” Adah asks, slightly distracted with the idea of being a professor. Of marking grades, arguing her case against the Dean, being the lecturer her students can go to about anything. “What makes you think it’d be good for me?”

Merrill shrugs, “You have a PhD in Archaeology and Ancient history for Pre chantry and elvhen.”

There is an edge to Merrill’s voice, a tone of jealousy that is so out of place for her, the sweet, gentle elf, that it takes Adah a little by surprise. 

“I only got that because Madame de Fer took pity on me.” Adah points out, her fingers seeking Merrill’s hair out of nervousness. “And even then a lot of people petitioned for me _not to.”_

She slips some quick braids into Merrill’s hair, who sighs and leans her head back. “I think I might go for my PhD.”

Adah fluffs up the ends of Merrill’s new braids and tucks them behind her ear. “I think that would be amazing. Where are you thinking about doing it?”

“Orlais, maybe Skyhold? I’m not sure yet.”

“Well, I still have Madam de Fers number if you want it? She’s … hard to talk to, but she’s a great asset to have.” 

Merrill nods and Adah quickly jots down the Orlesian nobles number. Merrill stands and gives her a tight hug, and Adah presses a soft kiss to her temple. If _anyone_ deserves to prove herself in the academic field, it’s Merrill. She may be ditsy sometimes, easily distracted by small fluffy animals and pretty gardens, but her dedication to Dalish history is unrivalled. 

Merrill releases her and stretches her arms above her head with a big yawn. “I think I might go to bed. Goodnight Adah.”

“G’night Merrill.”

Adah sits by the computer and scrolls through the tabs Merrill had left open for her. Her insides are in knots. She hasn’t had to look for a new job in four years, not since she graduated with her PhD. Madame de Fer had _somehow_ convinced the museum’s director, a woman named Florianne de Chalons, to hire Adahlena. She supposed it was a novelty at first, or a favour the director owed de Fer.

But Adahlena had outgrown whatever usefulness Florianne had seen and first chance she was out the door. She’s sure the same was true about Merrill.

They had been nothing but a selling point, an attraction to lure in curious patrons. 

Taking a deep breath, Adah pushes the thoughts from her mind. 

She applies to as many jobs as she can find; the TV consultancy, curating in smaller museums, Museum registrar, tutoring. Anything and everything gets her resume sent. She’s sure she’s sent thirty job applications by this point, all across Thedas. The furthest being Revain. It’s overwhelming to think just how far she has to travel to find work. 

She clicks on the last remaining tab. It sits there, taunting her.

Skyhold University.

She reads through the application forms. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t want it desperately.

She pictures herself, standing in front of a room packed full of eager students with a remote in hand as she lists through her PowerPoints. She sees herself on digs, explaining the right way to catalogue artefacts they find and her students are excited to learn. She imagines the hours of research she could happily do, finding hidden relics of her people. The funding to head any expedition she wants.

She wants it so badly she feels she can’t breathe. 

It takes her ten minutes to complete the forms. She triple checks everything, makes sure that she hasn’t sent an outdated resume and clicks send.

Her heart is thundering in her chest, excitement and anxiety crackle under her skin.

She can’t sleep feeling like this, she says to herself. She needs to calm down, use up this sudden burst of energy. She grabs the latest books she’s been reading, an interesting look into the avaar and their customs. Flicks through it until she finds the page she dog eared. 

It takes her ten minutes to realise she’s read the same sentence four times. She hasn’t even turned the page, her brain wandering to what the future might hold.

This time next year she might be at the forefront of revolutionary discovery. She might be unearthing something that gives her people something tangible. She could spearhead a new age for Dalish children, eager to unearth long-forgotten lore.

She wants, longs, to help her people be more than what they are. To be less than a fragment, a novelty.

But what can she do as she is now? 

Kick and scream and whine until the humans listen? 

Merrills right. 

She’s tired of fighting. 

She picks up her phone, flicks through her notifications, checks her mail.

Her keeper’s called again, guilt gnaws at her. She’d been meaning to call back, she’d just been consumed with work. She’ll call her tomorrow, she swears, typing a reminder into her phone.

_Fen’Harel 10:45_

_📖😡🙈_

**_Vhenadahl 10:55_ **

**_Everything alright there?_ **

_Fen’Harel 10:55_

_Perfectly, I am testing out my co-worker’s theory and writing a story in Emojis only._

_What do you think?_

**_Vhenadahl 10:56_ **

**_Okay_ **

**_That you’re reading that book before bed and your brain has exploded?_ **

_Fen’harel 10:57_

_Precisely!_

**_Vhenadahl 10:58_ **

**_I think that’s my cue to go to sleep!_ **

**_Goodnight Fen_ **

_Fen’Harel 10:58_

_Goodnight Vhen 😴_

  
  
  


“What the hell do you mean it’s going to private collectors?” Adah asks, raising her voice in Morrigan's dimly lit office. To her credit Morrígan doesn’t so much as flinch.

“I mean, that the collection is being divided up and sold to people who place the highest bid.”

Adah can feel a nasty bout of anger bubbling up her spine like some grotesque monster. It slips it’s tendrils around, her head throbs where she’s been clenching her jaw, and she feels dizzy from the sudden strain.

Divided up. Hidden from public view. Kept as a trophy and lost to time again.

“I can’t believe this.” She feels like she’s being smothered, like all the air has been knocked out of her. 

Morrígan crosses her arms.

“I dislike it just as much as you, but that is just what happens in this industry. If you can’t accept it, I suggest you do something else with your life.” 

Adah huffs. “Is there any way I can convince them to move it to another museum? We worked so hard on this Morrigan, it would be devastating if elvhen history gets locked away again. Please.”

“Do you think I haven’t tried?” Morrigan snaps, her golden eyes narrowing.

Adah crosses her arms. 

“I think you let them do whatever because it’s not _your_ heritage.” 

“I thought you were many things Adahlena, but an idiot was not one of them.” Morrigan says cooly, and if Adah were anyone else, she knows it would have worked a charm. 

Adah has fought bigger and scarier women than Morrigan, and what’s she going to do? Fire her again?

But being removed from the museum early ensures that she can do nothing to protect her precious artefacts. She knows that the only way she can get what she wants is to play into The Grand Game. 

“Look, Morrigan. I’m sorry for coming in here and shouting. I’m just, creators I’m so frustrated. This is my people’s history, we have so little left that seeing it sold to the highest bidder _hurts.”_

Morrigan looks at her, her expression schooled and giving nothing away. The silence makes Adah want to scratch at her skin in anxiousness. To speak just to fill the empty space. But she doesn’t, she forces herself to stand still.

Morrigan watches her, assessing her, and it makes her skin _itch._

Morrigan sighs.

“Perhaps,” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “I might know someone who could help, an old acquaintance. Do not place your hopes on it.”

“Please, anything. I’ll give you my firstborn if you can help.” Adah’s only partly joking.

Morrigan laughs so quietly Adah thinks she might have imagined it. “Do not make offers you don’t intend to keep. Despite what you think of me, despite it not being _my_ heritage, I do not want elvhen history to be discarded either.”

“Thank you, Morrigan.”

“‘Tis nothing, now please, leave my office.”

Adah leaves, more hopeful than when she’d entered.

  
  


**_Vhenadahl 18:14_ **

**_Have you ever dealt with someone who looks at you as though you are the dumbest person on Thedas?_ **

_Fen’harel 18:14_

_Daily, though the feeling is mutual._

_Why do you ask?_

**_Vhenadahl 18:14_ **

**_My boss implied that I’m an idiot_ **

**_Or, well, she said that she never used to think I was an idiot, which is somehow worse._ **

**_The situation has been dealt with, and we’ve moved forward_ **

**_But I can’t help this nagging feeling that she doesn’t take me seriously._ **

_Fen’harel 18:15_

_I highly doubt you are an idiot_

_From the few months we have been talking, you have been nothing but insightful and intelligent._

_I always look forward to hearing your opinion on things_

**_Vhenadahl 18:18_ **

**_Thank you, that means a lot_ **

**_I’m always excited to learn about what you’re reading, or studying or_ **

**_hearing from you in general, really._ **

_Fen’harel 18:18_

_You flatter me._

  
  
  


She calls her keeper Deshanna, expecting an earful for her late reply. Instead, she’s greeted by the sing-song voice of her sister.

“Ellana?” Adah says, fidgets with a pen whilst she’s splayed across her bed. Her phone is resting flat against her ear, hands-free.

“Speaking! Who is this?” Ellana asks and Adah rolls her eyes.

“You know who it is, Deshana has my number saved.”

“Sorry, I believe this is one Adahlena Lavellan? But as she hasn’t called in a few weeks, I can’t be sure. I seem to have forgotten the sound of her voice.” She can hear the smile in Ellana’s tone, creators, she misses her.

“Could you put the Keeper on the phone? Please?” 

“Ah I see how it is, I see who’s the favourite here,” Ellana says, harrumphing.

“I just need to ask for some advice and then I’ll call you back for a catch-up?” There’s a pause that spans longer than Adah is comfortable with. “Ell?”

“Fine. But you’d better call me back. I miss you.” 

“I miss you too, Elly.” 

There’s noise on the other end, she hears her sister shout for Deshana and there’s some loud fumbling as the phone is handed over. “Da’len?”

Her keeper's voice is like putting on a warm jumper in winter, comforting, like coming home. She wills herself not to cry.

“Hi, Deshana.” She says, timid. 

“Is everything okay?” The guilt of there having to be something wrong to call her keeper back pools in her belly, hot and heavy and shameful.

She’s not sure if she should even tell Deshana about losing her job. She had worked so hard to make it in the academic world, against all odds. She’d gone against her clan, her family, to pursue her dreams of restoring her people's history. 

She’d argued with the keeper the week before she’d moved to Orlais. She was after all her clans second, she was supposed to stay behind, continue her keeper’s duties.

And she had left.

“I’m fine! Super fine!” Adah lies, sure that Deshana can see right through her. “How is the clan?”

“They are fine, da’len. Eirlin had her baby, a boy named Ilonen. Levaan won this years spelling bee.” She continues to list their clan’s accomplishments, a note of pride in her voice. 

She explains how good this year's crops have been, how Ellana is doing teaching at the school. How she thinks that Revas’ boy, Telahn, might have feelings for her. She goes through how her garden is doing, how the new hall is coming along. How she thinks that Aneirin is hoping to go to university for agriculture soon.

Each word is like a small dagger to the heart.

Adah _misses_ them. There's this suffocating, choking sense of loss that creeps up her chest and makes her eyes sting. She misses them so much. She hates that she misses them. She hates that she never gets to see them. She wants to tell her keeper that she’s sorry she had to leave. She wants to tell her that she doesn’t know if it’s worth it anymore, despite all of her dreams and wishes.

“Give Eirlin my congratulations and tell Aneirin good luck.” She says instead.

“I will.”

There is a pregnant pause, Adah twiddles her charger cable. 

“Da’len. What is it that you want to say?”

And there it is. She could never lie to her, she would always sniff out anything troubling her. 

“I lost my job at the museum. The exhibit didn’t do very well and it was their final straw.” She says, quietly. Her nose burns with the new well of tears that threaten to burst from her.

“Oh, da’len.”

And then she’s sobbing, wishing so desperately that she could be held by her keeper. She wants to be a child again, protected, mothered. She wants her mother to swoop her up in her skirts and sing her a soft song whilst she hiccups tears. 

She doesn’t want to fight anymore.

“Shh, it’s okay Da’lath’in. It’ll be okay.” She knows that if Deshanna were here, she would be rubbing circles into her back, letting her soak her shoulder with tears. 

But she’s not there, and Adah is not a child.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry. It just happened very quickly and it’s a lot to take in. I’ll be okay.”

“You are allowed to grieve for something you spent four years working towards, da’len. It is okay to be upset by bad news.” Her tone is so soft, so caring, it threatens to make Adah cry again.

She bites her lip, grips her forearms and breathes deeply.

“Thank you, Deshana. Ar lath ma.” She says, whispering the words.

“I love you too, Adah, so so much.”

  
  
  


_Fen’harel 20:56_

_I have finished that dreadful book._

**_Vhenadahl 20:56_ **

**_Incredible that you managed to get through the entire thing_ **

**_Do you feel enlightened now, your horizons broadened?_ **

_Fen’harel 20:57_

_Haha._

_I definitely feel something, though I wouldn’t call it enlightened_

**_Vhenadahl 20:58_ **

**_Attached image: 1_ **

**_To make up for Magister Tirinius’ awful research, this book is pretty good_ **

**_Solas Fen’s work is a favourite of mine, he’s so insightful and his works wax poetic about the ancient elves in a way I've never heard before. It’s humbling and inspiring and wonderful_ **

**_And I’m getting carried away._ **

**_Anyway, his book ‘Lost spirits of Arlathan’ is a nice delve into the ancient elven culture and religious practices._ **

_Fen’harel 20:58_

_I shall have to look into it_

_Ma Serannas, lethalin_

**_Vhenadahl 20:59_ **

**_De da’rahn, lethalan_ **

  
  
  


Her last week goes by much quicker than she would like. She tries and fails many times, to catch Morrigan's eye as she passes. She ignores her though, casting her gaze elsewhere as saunters through the exhibit. 

It does nothing to boost Adah’s confidence in Morrigan's supposed acquaintance. 

Merrill and Adah’s shifts seem non-existent by the end, both ending up in _‘Elves of Halamshiral’_ together, talking away their remaining hours. If anyone notices, they don’t mention it, and Adah is grateful for this small mercy.

“Has Morrigan updated you on anything?” Merrill asks her on the way home the day before their final shift.

“No.” Adahlena sighs. 

“She will!” Merrill smiles, grabbing Adah by the hands and entwining their fingers. “It’ll all be okay, just you see.”

She hopes Merrill is right.

  
  
  


When she’s home alone, anxiety gnawing at her insides, she sends a quick text to Madame de Fer.

**_Adahlena Lavellan_ **

**_I’m sorry to be bothering you, Madame, but as you might know, I’ve been let go from the museum and the exhibit has been put up for auction. I know this is a lot to ask, but I’m a little desperate. Do you know of anything that can be done? Anyone you could ask, or maybe yourself?_ **

_Madame de Fer_

_I’m sorry my dear, as much as I admire your tenacity, I simply have no need for historical items in my life, but I might happen to know of someone willing to help._

**_Adahlena Lavellan_ **

**_Thank you, Madame de Fer._ **

  
  
  


On their last day, the mood is heavy. Adah paces the exhibition floor, sure that she’s worn a hole in the polished wood. Merrill pops by when she’s meant to be working elsewhere, her nervousness feeding into Adah’s until they are both nearly vibrating on the spot.

They don’t see Morrigan. Just as well, Adah doesn’t think she’d be able to stop herself from imploding if her boss were to let her down again. She’d had an off stomach since she woke up, rolling each time she thinks about someone having her finds hidden away in their home.

She nearly throws up. Manages instead to breathe through it and focus on something else for five minutes.

She’s supposed to be taking down the exhibit tonight, storing them into their respective boxes until whatever future awaits them. 

There is a strong chance she will never see them again.

No one has been to the exhibit yet, and she knows no one will miss her if she were to take a turn about the room. She slips out her phone. Maybe she’ll take a few pictures for Fen’harel. He doesn’t know she works there, and after today _she won’t_ be working there _._ There is no harm in showing him one small snippet of her life, on her last day.

She travels the displays, crouches down to get a close look at the various trinkets and relics.

Angling her phone so that her face is obscured, she takes a few pictures; the Emerald knights blade, small little tokens that might have belonged to the owner of the sword. A little wolf carved out of obsidian, with a hole to fasten to a leather cord. There’s a small offering bowl, cracked and shattered into several pieces with worn paint depicting twin ravens.

Several arrowheads are laid out on a backlit shelf, though she struggles to take a picture without her face reflecting off the glass. She puts the phone in front of her face instead, the only thing on show is the small bun peeking out from the side.

**_Vhenadahl 14:56_ **

**_Attached Image: 17_ **

**_Sorry! I got a little carried away_ **

_Fen’Harel 15:13_

_That’s alright, they are superb specimens._

**_Vhenadahl 15:14_ **

**_They’re from the exhibition “Elves of Halamshiral” in the National Museum of Orlais_ **

**_The majority of these items are from a dig in the Emerald Graves_ **

**_The sword is believed to have been from an Emerald knight, though unsure who, as of yet._ **

**_I thought you might like them 😊_ **

_Fen’harel 15:14_

_Fascinating._

_I do very much enjoy them! Thank you for thinking of me, lethalin._

_Attached Image: 1_

He’s sent her a picture of himself she realises, his face and the majority of his body (except for the very tip of his pointed ears) obscured by a large battered shield. On it is a rudimentary painting of a wolf entwisted in thick vines with blooming white flowers. It’s a shield of an Emerald Knight. She knows because she’s seen the real thing up close.

_Fen’Harel 15:16_

_Of course, this is but a replica_

_But I thought perhaps given your clear interest in Halamshiral’s history, you might like it._

**_Vhenadahl 15:16_ **

**_Where on Thedas did you get that?_ **

**How _did you get that?_**

_Fen’harel 15:16_

_It was a joke gift from some colleagues_

**_Vhenadahl 15:17_ **

**_That’s a very expensive joke!_ **

**_If you don’t want it, I’ll gladly take it_ **

_Fen’harel 15:17_

_I did not say I did not want it._

**_Vhenadahl 15:17_ **

**_👀_ **

_Fen’harel 15:17_

_I’m still confused by the eyes._

  
  
  


Merrill and Adah manage to clear the exhibit without issue, they pack away all the artefacts into their allotted boxes. It takes them several hours after the museum has closed, and they do it alone. Morrigan is nowhere to be seen.

“Do you think she’s forgotten?” Merrill asks, cloth gloved hands delicately placing a fragment of the blade into its container. Adah glances to her before she puts the arrowheads away, gentle to not break any.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe she hasn’t managed to find anything, maybe she doesn’t want to tell us, maybe she never cared.” 

“She cared,” Merrill says quietly. “If she didn’t, we wouldn’t have lasted this long.”

Adah only hums in response.

  
  
  


“I thought that maybe we could have a self-care night,” Merrill says when Adah gets home from food shopping. It’s her first day being unemployed and already Adah is going stir crazy. 

“Sure, but I don’t really have anything to self-care with.” Adah puts away the groceries, her back turned to her friend and roommate. “I guess I can go back out and get stuff?”

When she turns around Merrill already has a stack of face masks piled on the table, next to it several rom coms and bowls of snacks. Adah spies her favourite, salted pretzels and caramel popcorn.

“That’s okay! I already had some things lying about!”

They spend the night in their comfiest pyjamas, curled up on the sofa under a duvet. Both of them have opted for sheet masks, Merrills makes her look like a halla. 

They speed through four of the romcoms, and Adah swears that she sees Merrill tear up at the last one. 

“It’s just so wonderful seeing so many people come together around Satinalia.” She sniffs when Adah asks if she’s okay.

Adahs favourite, she has to say, is an old movie, made when she was a child. It’s about two people sparking a relationship in the anonymity of the internet when it first came out. They dance around each other, not realising that they are in fact business rivals until it all comes to a head and they live happily ever after.

Or rather, Adah assumes as much because the ending of the movie has them kissing and not much else.

They start their fifth movie when Merrill’ phone suddenly rings. Adah pauses the film.

“Hello?” Merrill asks, answering her phone and putting it on speaker. 

“I have news about the exhibit,” Morrigan says, her voice cracking over the receiver. 

Adah wills her heart to stop racing. This is it. All of it comes down to this.

“And?” Merrill is less subtle, leg bouncing against Adah’s knee. 

“My acquaintance has offered to bid at the auction. We can’t know if they will succeed, obviously, but if they do win they have already said the items will be loaned to museums across Thedas.” 

“That’s excellent news!” Merrill grabs Adah’s arm in excitement, her smile infectious. She is beaming from ear to ear and Adah can’t help but smile along with her. 

“Yes. Well, we shall see how this turns out in the coming weeks. Goodnight.” And as abruptly as she called, she hangs up. Merrill and Adah look at one another for a beat before throwing themselves at each other, squealing. 

“This is wonderful!” Merrill squeaks, hugging Adah so tight she thinks her airways almost close.

“Thank the creators for Morrigan's friend!” Adah says.

They spend the rest of the night in various states of excitement, and in celebration, they order takeout from some fancy Orlesian place. 

  
  
  


**_Vhenadahl 1:13_ **

**_I know you’re probably asleep, and I’m sorry if this wakes you up_ **

**_Attached Image: 2_ **

**_This is the first thing I ever found on a dig, it’s a small piece of buckle that made my professor cry when I found it_ **

**_It solidified that I made the right choice in pursuing history as a degree, seeing something real and physical that someone a few hundred years ago discarded. It made it all so real for me and it mattered, y’know?_ **

_Fen’harel 1:20_

_You didn’t wake me up, I was doing work and could use a break_

_I remember my first ever find. It was in the hissing wastes, of all places, a fragment of an old dwarven tome. My professor at the time had discarded it as nothing more than a piece of a pillar, though she kept it to humour me, I suppose. Maybe to even prove me wrong. I was a very … eager student._

**_Vhenadahl 1:21_ **

**_I can just imagine you now, a teacher's pet!_ **

_Fen’harel 1:21_

_I assure you, I was very much not. You should have seen me when I was younger. Hot-blooded and cocky, always ready to fight. I thought I knew more than everyone around me. Her realising it was a piece of inscription discussing Fairels tomb was all the proof I needed at the time._

**_Vhenadahl 1:22_ **

**_What a first find though, you must have been incredibly proud._ **

_Fen’harel 1:22_

_I was._

**_Vhenadahl 1:25_ **

**_Would you say you’re still like that?_ **

**_Self-assured and cocky I mean._ **

_Fen’harel 1:25_

_No, I faced my share of hubris and humility in the many years since._

_How about you? What was student Vhen like?_

**_Vhenadahl 1:26_ **

**_I was very quiet_ **

**_I was a good student, just not very vocal and not very social. I kept to myself more often than not, and didn’t make many friends at my time in university._ **

_Fen’harel 1:26_

_I’m sorry to hear that. That must have been difficult._

_But what of your first find? You mentioned a buckle and your professor crying._

**_Vhenadahl 1:28_ **

**_It was a fragment of a buckle. I found it whilst on a student dig in the middle of the Anderfels. It made him weep. He really loves buckles. Give him a buckle and he can identify it immediately._ **

_Fen’harel 1:29_

_Fascinating. Was there anything of particular interest to this buckle?_

**_Venahdahl 1:31_ **

**_It was a buckle of what he believes was one of the early Chevaliers, or a member of the ‘Empress’ Arm.’ for Empress Jeaneve Drakon I, circa 2:30 Glory Age. As the Anderfels had declared independence under her father's rule, it’s likely that she would send ambassadors to either take the city again or to try and maintain peace._ **

**_Orlesian history isn’t my strong suit and I’ve probably butchered some intricacies that my professor would be very disappointed over._ **

**_But the pride he had in me, the fact I found his favourite type of artefact, I think I became a little bit of a teacher's pet after that._ **

**_Don’t tell anyone, but I’m a little proud of that fact._ **

_Fen’harel 1:47_

_I would never dream of it_

  
  
  


Adah’s first rejection letter stings far more than she expected it to. She knew going into it that she wouldn’t get some jobs. She’s prepared for it in fact, she’s stashed chocolate in her top draw for later. But this _hurts_. And she’s all too aware it’s because of the shape of her ears and the vallaslin on her face.

Adahlena and Lavellan are _not_ city elf names and are _certainly not_ human.

Her second rejection stings just as much.

So does her fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh. 

She runs out of chocolate twice over and resigns herself to hiding in her bed until Merrill joins her and tells her she needs to shower. 

She calls her keeper just to hear the comfort of a familiar voice. She calls her sister when she feels so overwhelmed by rejection that she can’t sleep. Ellana tells her about Telahn, how he’s been following her around like a wide-eyed puppy, with only a hint of annoyance in her voice. She tells her it’ll be okay, and that if worse comes to worst there’ll always be a space back home for her.

By the twentieth rejection, she’s already steeled herself to it, worried more about affording food and rent when her savings start to drop sharply. She knows Merrill is in a similar boat.

“I won’t be able to go back ho- go back to the clan,” Merrill says one night when they are huddled in her bed, duvet over their heads. “I’m a little scared.”

Adah doesn’t want to admit it, but she’s terrified. Having a taste of life outside of the clan, despite her love and fondness for her people, has been liberating in ways she can’t explain. The possibility, the potential, to do something more than life in the dales could offer. 

Guilt gnaws at her insides again and she takes a deep breath to quell the rising tide of shame.

“We’ll get something to tide us over,” She says, interlacing her fingers with Merrill. “We’re going to be okay.”

She hopes she sounds more convincing to Merrill than she does to herself.

  
  
  


_Fen’harel 22:45_

_I haven’t heard from you in a few days_

_Is everything alright?_

_You do not have to tell me if you aren’t comfortable._

**_Vhenadahl 22:47_ **

**_Hey, I’m okay_ **

**_Just, going through the wringer right now._ **

**_I lost my job a few weeks ago and I’m struggling a little at the moment_ **

**_I should be fine though! I have a good support system back home._ **

_Fen’harel 22:50_

_I’m sorry to hear that. I’m here if you want to talk about it_

_In as much or as little detail as you please_

_Or not at all, we could talk about something entirely different if that’s your preference?_

**_Vhenadahl 22:15_ **

**_I think I’d like the distraction, honestly._ **

_Fen’harel 22:15_

_Attached image: 4_

**_Vhenadahl 22:17_ **

**_Where on Thedas did you find those?_ **

**_They’re beautiful_ **

_Fen’harel 22:18_

_It took me many years and many hours of research and an unlimited reserve of patience for online bidding._

_And thank you._

**_Vhenadahl 22:18_ **

**_I would make a deal with Fen’harel himself to get my hands on that copy of ‘_ The Lady of the Forest.’**

_Fen’harel 22:19_

_I’m listening_

**_Vhenadahl 22:20_ **

**_You know what I meant._ **

**_Though … out of curiosity,_ **

**_What would it take to get my hands on that book?_ **

_Fen’harel 22:20_

_I’m not sure,_

_It cost roughly £1000 at auction, though it’s worth is beyond monetary value to me._

_I feel it would take something exceptional for me to allow someone else to borrow it._

**_Vhenadahl 22:21_ **

**_EXCUSE ME_ **

**_HOW MUCH?!_ **

_Fen’harel 22:21_

_It is an incredibly rare and valuable edition._

**_Vhenadahl 22:21_ **

**_Mythal’s knickers, I could pay two months rent with that money!_ **

  
  


_Fen’harel 22:22_

_I do not usually spend so much money on things if you’re thinking I’m some secret millionaire._

**_Vhenadahl 22:22_ **

**_That’s_ exactly _what I’m thinking._**

_Fen’harel 22:22_

_I assure you, I am usually rather frugal._

_To a fault, if you were to ask my colleague._

_Fen’harel 23:12_

_Vhen?_

**_Vhenadahl 23:15_ **

**_Sorry, I fell asleep!_ **

_Fen’harel 23:15_

_Worry not! Goodnight Vhen_

**_Vhenadahl 23:15_ **

**_Good night Fen, and thank you for distracting me from my brain._ **

_Fen’harel 23:15_

_Ma nuvenin, Sleep well._

  
  
  


By week four of being unemployed, Adah thinks she might have lost her mind. She starts to count the tiles in their bathroom, the number of steps between her room and the fridge. One particular morning she counts the cereal in her bowl, staring at it hunched over the table.

“Maybe we should go to town for a walk,” Merrill says, eyeing her from across their table.

They do, and it’s lovely, with fresh air that they have both desperately needed. 

But it does nothing to fill the growing anxiety nibbling at her insides about her lack of money, lack of a job, lack of prospects. 

When she gets home she heads straight to her room, giving Merrill some poor excuse of not feeling well.

Well. That’s not entirely untrue, she just feels like an abject failure and her energy to socialise has sizzled into nothing. 

She flops onto her bed, pulls out her phone and scrolls through social media. Nothing new, mostly just little life updates from classmates she added out of politeness. She tries not to be bitter at their success.

She should check her email, though she dreads going through the mountain of refusals. Not a single job she had applied for has so far taken her up on an interview. Some hadn’t gotten back to her at all, instead they ghosted her. Somehow those were worse.

She closes her eyes, takes a deep steadying breath and presses the email app. 

There are a few new ones, mostly spam or junk from the various companies she’s signed up to over the years. Those she deletes without a second thought. She has an email about changes to her phone billing, which she saves in _Important._

And there, highlighted and bolded is an email that squarely knocks the wind out of her.

_From: Leliana.Vasseur@UoS.ac.Or_

_To: AdahlenaLavellan@fademail.com_

* * *

_Dear Adahlena Lavellan,_

_I’m pleased to inform you that your application for the position of professor in ancient history and archaeology has been shortlisted and you are in consideration for the position._

_I would like to invite you to an interview on the 20th Justinian at the humanities department, University of Skyhold. If you are unable to attend this interview or require alternative means, please contact me via phone on +45 893872 930048 or via email Leliana.Vasseur@UoS.ac.Or._

_I hope to hear from you soon._

_Kind regards_

_Leliana Vasseur_

_Dean of Humanities, Arts and Social Sciences_

_University of Skyhold_

Adah’s heart is thundering in her chest and she knows her hands are shaking by the way the phone jitters.

Gods, she has an interview with the University of Skyhold.

Her! A dalish elf! Has an interview with one of the top ten universities in all of Thedas! To be a professor of elvhen history!

She should respond to the email immediately, and she will respond she just .. she needs to tell Merrill right away.

She bursts from her bedroom door to see Merrill hovering over a book, sitting on their sofa. When her door bangs against the wall Merrill jumps, nearly flinging the book away from herself.

“Fenedhis!” Merrill exclaims, clutching her chest. 

“I got an interview!” Adah says, nearly shouting as she leaps over the back of the sofa and pushes her phone into Merrill’s hand. “I got an interview at the university!”

Merrill squeals and throws her arms around Adah. “That’s fantastic news, Adah!”

“Now I’ve just gotta have the interview and hopefully pass it and-” her excitement falters.

And she’ll be moving out of her small apartment with Merrill, away to be closer to the university. 

“I’m so very proud of you,” Merrill says and smiles, soft and genuine and Adah’s heart threatens to spill over. 

“I’m sorry,” Adah says, quietly. She interlinks her fingers with Merrills, rubs her thumb across her knuckles. “Have you heard anything?”

Merrill slips her fingers from Adah’s to fumble them in her lap, picking at her loose cotton trousers. “Actually, I’ve been wanting to tell you for a day or two now. I just didn’t want to upset you.”

Adah cringes. She’s been so wrapped up in her shitty thoughts that she didn’t stop to think that maybe Merrill needed some support. “I’m sorry.” She says again.

Merrill smiles. “It’s okay.” She pauses. “I called Madame de Fer and told her we were friends. She said that I should contact the humanities department in Orlais. I’ve been offered a research position with Dr Kenric. It’s in the Frostback Basin, researching the Avaar, but there are known Dalish sites around the area and they want a Dalish expert just in case. He read my paper on conservation techniques for pre chantry and earlier finds and said I’d be a perfect fit.”

Adah wonders why she wasn’t told about it, considering her relationship with Bram. She’ll admit it feels a little personal, but she shakes the thoughts from her mind. Merrill deserves this, she deserves more than this, and Adah is so incredibly proud of her. 

“Oh, Merrill that’s wonderful.” She says, smiling. “They’re so lucky to have you.”

“Dr Kenric has said that he will help me gain my PhD as well, once we’re done with the dig.”

“I think this deserves a good night in. I’ll cook something fancy and we can spend the night watching movies.” Adah stands. “I’ll see what we have in the house in a sec, I just have to reply to this email okay?”

Merrill grins and waves her off. “Go get that job, lethalin.”

**_Vhenadahl 22:24_ **

**_Attached Image: 1_ **

**_I think I did pretty good considering the only food we had in the house was pasta, tomatoes and an array of veg 😎_ **

_Fen’harel 22:24_

_I would say more than good, it looks delicious_

**_Vhenadahl 22:25_ **

**_Why thank you_ **

  
  
  


“Miss Lavellan, can you hear me clearly?” The woman on the screen in front of her smiles and pushes her short auburn hair behind her ear. She sounds Orlesian though her accent is soft, Adah detects a small hint of Ferelden around the edges. Leliana Vasseur, Dean of Humanities, is an incredibly striking woman and her pale blue eyes watch her with apt interest.

“Perfectly, Miss Vasseur.” 

“Brilliant, shall we get started then?” 

The interview goes smoothly, though Adah will admit that it’s the most intimidating interview of her life. There is an unnerving amount of knowledge that Leliana has on her. She lists her accomplishments, her grades, her reports and essays, asks her to repeat them back later as if to catch her out. She questions her relentlessly and it takes all of Adah’s focus to not stumble over her words. She asks her to explain some of her theories, to discuss the thesis for her PhD. She hangs on Adah’s every word and writes notes whilst she speaks.

She is ruthless but not unkind. She smiles and jokes and for as nervous as Adah is, Leliana is gentle and calm. 

When they finish Leliana tells her that she’ll call her soon to let her know how’s she done and whether she’s got the job. She smiles and Adah is too scared to be hopeful in it. 

**_Vhenadahl 15:20_ **

**_Cross all your fingers and toes for me, please_ **

**_And think happy thoughts in my direction_ **

_Fen’harel 15:49_

_They are all crossed and all my thoughts are with you_

_Can I ask why I’m doing this?_

**_Vhenadahl 15:50_ **

**_I just need all the luck I can get right now_ **

_Fen’harel_

_Well in that case,_

_Good Luck!_

  
  
  


Merrill has been packing for the past several days and Adah will absolutely not cry from the sight of it. Boxes fill their small hallway, causing her to nearly trip every time she comes home. There are piles of things across their living room and kitchen table, most of which are going with her.

“I didn’t know you had this much stuff,” Adah tells her, eyeing a pile of daisy decorated scarves.

“They’re mostly gifts from a friend! He sends me things often, usually when he thinks of me.”

Adah watches as she carries several paintings from her room, all of the various flowers from the dales.

“Is this from your friend too?” Adah asks.

Merrill shakes her head. “No, this is from another friend, she collects things on her travels and sends them to me when she’s in port.”

“Right,” Adah says. “And the books?”

“Another friend, I don’t get to see her very often either. She’s usually off saving the world.” 

“Saving the world?” Adah asks.

“Mhmm. It’s Mariam Hawke.”

Adah nearly falls off the back of the sofa where she'd been perched. “Your friend is Mariam Hawke? The person who went toe to toe with the _Arishok_ and _lived_?” She’s screeching, but the news is too damn shocking to care.

“The very same,” Merrill says as she scrutinises a shirt and puts it in the donate pile.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh yes! Mariam helped me pay for university, she’s the reason I have my degree! She’s so lovely, she sends me things whenever she’s away.”

“Wow.” Is all Adah can say.

Mariam Hawke! Saviour of Kirkwall! The woman who looked into the eyes of a dictator and said ‘No More.’ The woman who liberated an entire city-state after kicking the ass of the qunari who had tried to steal power in a sudden coup. 

Creators. 

“That’s… That’s, wow.”

Merrill shrugs as though it is the most mundane piece of information she could have said. She carries on sorting out her things.

  
  


_Fen’harel 16:55_

_I have been meaning to ask you,_

_Did you ever get a response to the thing I have to cross all toes and fingers for?_

**_Vhenadahl 17:23_ **

**_Not yet,_ **

**_It’s been a week, and I’m getting a little antsy_ **

**_I guess you didn’t cross them hard enough_ **

_Fen’harel 17:58_

_My apologies, I shall cross them all at once_

**_Vhenadahl 17:59_ **

**_Thank you 😌😚_ **

  
  
  


As if Fen’harel had cast a magic spell, Adah gets a call the next day. 

“Hello?” Adah says, stepping over a box directly outside her bedroom door. 

“Miss Lavellan?” That same soft lilting orlesian accent sounds through the speaker, and Adah thinks her heart might have actually stopped.

“Speaking,” she says. Her heart pounds in her chest, her hands becoming clammy. She feels faint, dizzy, from the sudden apprehension 

“It’s Leliana Vasseur, from the university. I’m calling to let you know that you got the job and that we think you would be the perfect fit for our humanities team. Are you available now to discuss times and such now?”

Adah can hear her, she knows what she said, but nothing is sinking in beside ‘you got the job.’ It repeats in her head over and over, fixated. She’s gotten the job. Her. She’d done it without someone else’s recommendation. 

She got in on her own experience and skill. She _earned_ this.

“Miss Lavellan?” Leliana says and it’s enough to snap her out of her thoughts.

“I’m- thank you so much. I’m free to talk now!” She feels like she’s hyperventilating from excitement. Her hands are shaking hard enough for her to struggle to keep the phone against her ear. 

“Excellent!”

They decide for Adah to move by August at the latest. To get her started on her search for a home Leliana sends her a list of apartments, ranging in size and price. 

The lowest is not much bigger than her apartment in Orlais, though it doesn’t boast a second bedroom and the kitchen is considerably bigger. The living room is small, cosy and warm looking with dark red and orange walls. Perfect, she thinks, for the cold ferelden nights she’s heard so much about from Merril. 

The highest end of the budget would get her a two-floor cottage, definitively ferelden in design. Built from river stone with a slate roof, It has small little windows with mint green shutters. The inside is quaint, like something out of the romance movies Adah secretly adores. She’s sure she has seen a similar in the classic Ferelden _‘First Impressions.’_

Her heart is a little set on getting it, if only for the pale pink doorway and open stone living room. It would be a little hard to save whilst living there, she knows, it’s very much the higher end of her budget.

But with a little adjustment and batch cooking, she’s sure she could live comfortably.

She keeps her options open though, knowing that the likelihood of securing it is slim. Slimer still since she is an elf, and she knows many landlords would likely refuse her. _Especially_ for a house as lovely as that.

Leliana also forwards that year's itinerary, a long list of things that Adah will undoubtedly spend the next month learning.

“Dr Fen is currently away working with the Ferelden National Museum in Denerim, though he should return before university starts for the year. If you have any questions regarding the syllabus or would like to amend or contribute in some way please feel free to email me.” Leliana says, a smile evident in her voice.

“Thank you miss Vasseur, I’ll get right on that.”

“Oh please, call me Leliana now that we are to be working together.” 

They end their call, and Adah spends the entire night pouring over the syllabus as Merrill reads her book beside her. Merrill’s feet are stretched across Adahs lap and Adah glances over to the cover of the book. _‘Avaar: A condensed history’ By Bram Kenric and Colette Clovis._

**_V_ _henadahl 18:39_ **

**_Thank you for whatever magic luck spell you cast_ **

**_I got the good news I was hoping for_ **

_Fen’harel 18:45_

_I am glad to hear it_

  
  
  


The coming weeks see both Adahlena and Merrill packing in a frenzied rush. Merrill because she was moving into a much smaller apartment and had not realised how much stuff her friends had accumulated. Adah, on the other hand, is torn between finding a place to live and packing up their shared place in Orlais. 

She messages a number of landlords to explain her situation and a few respond with the opportunity to virtually view their lettings. There are a few that catch her eye, some small apartments that sit above shops. But she always falls back on that quaint little cottage to the side of Haven. The deposit is more than a month of her current rent and she _knows_ realistically that it would be a challenge to scrape the money together for it, but as she’s selling a fair bit of things (as they can’t make the move), she thinks she’ll be okay.

She gives the landlord, a man named Cullen Rutherford, a call; she has a virtual viewing of the house, and as he shows her around she sinks deeper and deeper in love with it. There is a wood-burning stove in the kitchen, with white cupboards and rustic wooden counters. The bedroom is light and airy, with pastel pink walls and floral wallpaper. The shutters are painted a sweet mint green, and she notices the carved little hearts that adorn their filigree. 

Whoever had lived here before had wanted a pastel wonderland, and Adah loves it with her whole heart.

“What do you think?” Cullen asks once they're done with the viewing. He squirms as he puts the camera to focus on his face. He’s a lot different to what she’d expected, handsome and somewhat _anxious-looking_ as he fidgets. 

“I think it’s wonderful.” She says. 

“It comes pre-furnished, though you would need to bring your own cooking utensils, shower curtain and what not. Uhm, if the furniture isn’t to your taste we could look into replacing some things-”

“No no! It’s perfect!”

Cullen smiles, they talk about the finer details of rent, a time frame. 

She spends the night thinking over everything, budgeting, planning and planning and planning. 

**_Vhenadahl 22:35_ **

**_Question:_ **

**_Frugal and boring or comfy and welcoming?_ **

_Fen’harel 22:56_

_Well, without much context I can not truly say_

_Though, as you have recently had a rough time, I would say to treat yourself with kindness._

**_Vhenadahl 22:56_ **

**_Thank you!!!_ **

**_Knew I could count on you <3 _ **

  
  


She calls Cullen the next day, barely able to keep her excitement in. He emails her the digital forms, she signs the lease and plans to be moved in by August fifth. 

  
  
  


Merrill is all packed and ready to move a week later. They celebrate with their last take away together, and they splurge on some fancy Orlesian wine. They drink and hug, watch movies and make promises of keeping in contact. Adah gives Merrill a small gift, a little halla trinket carved from oak that she’d bought last time she’d been able to go home. Merill gifts Adah with a scarf weaved from silk with small little leaves in a contrasting colour. 

“It was a gift from my keeper the day I left,” She says, her words a quiet slur against Adah’s neck where she leans. “It’s a reminder of what I lost, but more importantly it’s a reminder of our people and the journey we’ve been on and overcome. I want you to have it because I know that you’re going to do great things for elves and I believe in you.” 

Adah throws her arms around Merrill and holds her for the remainder of the night. 

  
  
  


The day Merrill moves out they say their goodbyes by the front door, ignoring the way their neighbours watch them with rapt interest. Adah presses a kiss to Merrill’s brow and bites her lip to stem the flow of tears. 

Adah watches as the last of Merrill’s things are loaded, trying hard to stop the quiver of her lip as her friend lifts the final box. 

And then Merrill is gone with all her things in a van Bram had organised, off to her new future. 

When she goes back in, Merrill’s room being completely empty is a giant punch to the gut, like someone swooped in and decked her.

  
  
**_Vhenadahl 3:13_ **

**_Hey, I’m sorry this is becoming a running theme,_ **

**_I promise I don’t usually message strangers at random hours of the morning._ **

_Fen’harel 3:15_

_Only strange elvhen men with a penchant for staying up late?_

_I’m flattered_

**_Vhenadahl 3:16_ **

**_I suppose you’ll do._ **

_Fen’harel 3:16_

_In all seriousness, is everything okay?_

**_Vhenadahl 3:18_ **

**_My roommate moved out today, and I’m so incredibly proud of her_ **

**_But this is also the first time I’ve been alone in this house, and all her things being gone is making it hit home that_ **

**_Things are changing, I guess?_ **

**_I’m not really sure, my brain isn’t quite working right now._ **

_Fen’harel 3:20_

_Change is not always an easy pill to swallow, lethalin._

_You can feel both pride and happiness for your friend whilst also mourning her loss from your life._

_It makes you no less of a friend to miss her and be upset that she’s gone_

**_Vhenadahl 3:21_ **

**_I know, thank you._ **

**_I think I just need a friend tonight._ **

**_Do you have anything interesting going on right now?_ **

**_That you’re comfortable telling me about._ **

_Fen’harel 3:27_

_I suppose I could tell you something about what I’m working on currently._

_Attachment Imagine: 1_

_This is my current office, albeit a temporary one. I’ve been hired to organise a few items for a private client, which I don’t believe they would be comfortable with me showing._

_But I can show you this._

_Attached image: 4_

_A tapestry of Calenhad, the first king of ferelden, uniting the clans under one banner._

_I admit that I am no expert in ferelden history and if you were to press me on the finer details of the countries unification I would be at a loss, but I find it utterly fascinating._

**_Vhenadahl 3:34_ **

**_Creators, that’s beautiful. Look at how fine the weave is! The colours haven’t lost any vibrancy, it must have been sealed away from light._ **

_Fen’harel 3:35_

_I’m told that it was discovered in an underground cellar of a long-forgotten castle, recently rediscovered. It’s currently being restored but will be on display soon enough I’m sure._

**_Vhenadahl 3:36_ **

**_I would love to see it when it is._ **

_Fen’harel 3:36_

_I believe it’ll be shown in the Ferelden national museum in Denerim._

  
  
  


_Fen’harel 4:15_

_Good night Vhen_

  
  
  
  


The day of her move takes her a little by surprise. It creeps on her like a hungry halla, sneaking an apple from her pack when her back is turned.

She’s sold all of her furniture, earning her just enough to cover the deposit and her first week's grocery. Everything else, her books, clothes, toiletries etcetera, are set to be shipped the day before she leaves so that they arrive just after her.

When she arrives in Ferelden the cold hits her like a truck. Orlais in summer is sweltering hot, the vast cities trapping in all heat. A heat she’s gotten used to over the last four years.

The drive from Redcliffe to Haven is roughly an hour and a half, through which she and her taxi driver make comfortable small talk. He asks her about her trip to Ferelden, why she’s here, how she's liking the summer heat (at that she laughs.) She asks him about Haven, what it’s like, the people, the university. 

She learns Haven is the nearest town to Skyhold, though the university has grown in recent years, with its own small village sitting in a valley beneath. One of his daughters went there, the pride in his voice palpable, and he knows all the little nooks and crannies from when he would visit her.

Her landlord, she sees, is already waiting for her outside of her new home. His hair glistens gold in the sun, slicked back with a hint of curl at the ends. He leans awkwardly against the front door, arms crossed until he sees her heave her luggage from the trunk. Her luggage is heavy, full of her clothes and small breakable trinkets wrapped within them. Her arms burn, long unused to any form of heavy lifting. She’s a little ashamed to admit how out of shape she’s gotten in the recent years. 

She’s _Dalish_ dammit, she used to lift logs like it was nothing.

“Miss Lavellan.” He calls as he makes his way towards her, shoes crunching against the gravel path. 

She turns to look at him, spies his thick arms and long lean legs and holds back a smile. 

“Mr Rutherford,” She says, pays and thanks the driver with as large a tip as she can possibly afford. He smiles, says his goodbyes and drives away. 

“Please, call me Cullen. Uhm, How was your flight?” Cullen asks, hands in front of him, twisting.

“Oh, not so bad, thank you.” She smiles, lifting the handle of her case. It drags behind her as she makes her way toward the house, the wheels grinding loudly on the gravel.

“Let me help you with that,” He reaches for her case and she waves him off.

“Oh it’s fine, honest.” 

He eyes her, and shrugs. “Very well. Did you want a tour of the house before I leave you to settle in?”

“I would love that, thanks.”

The house is even more quaint than what the pictures led her to believe. Cullen shows her around with no small amount of pride, explaining how it used to be his sisters. She’d given it to him when she’d moved back in with their parents, and he’d been living there sporadically since. 

“Your sister has excellent taste.” She says, trailing her fingers across the wooden kitchen counters, marvelling at their rich colour.

“She was very proud of this place.” He says with a sigh, pushing his fingers through his hair. Her eyes unconsciously follow the movement.

By the end of the tour, Cullen has explained the small histories of every square inch. He goes over the little intricacies, the quirks that make this house a home. He gives her a list of his favourite places to eat, points of local interest, the general time it takes to get to the larger cities and the university. 

He leaves her with his work number, in case she needs anything whilst living there. She thanks him and after he leaves she settles into her new home.

The rest of her things should be arriving tomorrow, but in the meantime, she settles into the living room. 

She calls her sister to tell her she’s landed safely; they talk for a while about anything and everything, happy to just hear each other. They talk about how the clan is doing, the colour of Adah’s new living room, the keepers embrium garden. Ellena’s voice is soothing enough that Adah finds herself drifting off. 

She wakes up hours later, her phone pressed to her cheek, drool coating her hair, fully clothed and sprawled across her couch.

She takes herself up to bed, shucks off her clothes and climbs under the duvet.

  
  
  


The next day, after waking up well into the afternoon, after her things arrive safe and sound and have been put away, Adah goes food shopping.

Haven is small and _especially_ cold. As she meanders through town, learning the streets and buildings, she notes that where the sun has not hit frost still lingers. Her coat is nowhere near thick enough to stop the chill and she ends up layering herself in jumpers. 

She shops for food in Havens market. Though it’s not even half the size of Val Royeaux’s, it has everything she could ever need. She buys a week's supply of food, a whole array of veg and meats and grains that she’ll need to bulk out meals. 

The people eye her, though they don’t say anything about the vallaslin or her pointed ears. A welcome change from the open curiosity of the Orlesians she’d been surrounded by. 

She’ll explore the rest of Haven tomorrow, right now she’s far too tired to do anything besides eat and sit across her bed. 

She gets home, throws her keys and puts shopping away and trudges up to her bed. 

Adah flops under her duvet, kicks off her shoes and unlocks her phone.

_Adahlena lavellan 15:34_

_Hey! How is the new place?_

_Merrill Sabrae 15:40_

_Hello! It’s lovely, a little smaller than I thought,_

_but we’re going to be going to the dig soon!_

_Bram has been updating me with what we’re looking for!_

**_Adahlena Lavellan 15:42_ **

**_That sounds exciting!_ **

**_Anything you’re allowed to tell me?_ **

_Merrill Sabrae 15:45_

_Well, Bram is going to be focusing on what he believes are Avaar myths related to Inquisitor Ameridan._

**_Adahlena Lavellan 15:46_ **

**_Interesting, I wonder why Bram has suddenly become interested in things other than buckles._ **

_Merrill Sabrae 15:46_

_Oh! So the buckle thing is not just me then?_

_He has been asking me if I know anything about dalish buckle making._

_How is Ferelden?_

**_Adahlena Lavellan 15:48_ **

**_Not just you, very much his niche interest._ **

**_Cold, a little damp._ **

**_Attached image: 4_ **

**_The house is really lovely, my landlord even lovelier._ **

_Merrill Sabrae 15:48_

_Oh, do you have a garden?_

**_Adahlena Lavellan 15:54_ **

**_It’s not the biggest, but I think you’d love it._ **

**_Lots of room for herbs and veg._ **

_Merrill Sabrae 15:55_

_It looks wonderful lethalin, I’ll have to come visit when I can!_

_I have to go now, I have a meeting with Bram and Collette_

_I’ll talk to you soon though!_

**_Adahlena Lavellan 15:58_ **

**_Speak soon, Lethalin!_ **

**_Vhenadahl 22:32_ **

**_Hey, how is your work going? Anything interesting?_ **

_Fen’harel 23:01_

_Hello! I’m okay, currently on a break from organising for my client, and as interesting as it is, I’m afraid I can't share much._

**_Vhenadahl 23:02_ **

**_Ah, okay! That’s fair enough._ **

**_Anything besides work going on?_ **

_Fen’harel 23:02_

_Sadly, work is taking up the majority of my time._

_The only other interesting thing I have going on is talking to you._

**_Vhenadahl 23:06_ **

**_I’m interesting?_ **

_Fen’harel 23:07_

_Undoubtedly._

_But what of you? How have you been?_

**_Vhenadahl 23:08_ **

**_Attached Image: 4_ **

**_I moved house recently_ **

**_It’s like a pastel daydream_ **

**_I was going to sort through my things but the jet lag is kicking my arse_ **

_Fen’harel 23:08_

_It is certainly pink._

**_Vhenadahl 23:09_ **

**_What? Not a fan of pink? 😛_ **

_Fen’harel 23:09_

_I don’t mind it actually, just perhaps not on every surface._

**_Vhenadahl 23:10_ **

**_Your loss I guess_ **

_Fen’harel 23:10_

_I’m sure it is._

_Other than the colour scheme how are you enjoying your new house?_

**_Vhenadahl 23:10_ **

**_It’s lovely and cosy! Reminds me of home,_ **

**_It would be much cosier if I unpacked though._ **

**_Attached Image: 1_ **

_Fen’harel 23:14_

_I see you haven’t managed to sort out your books. Anything new, or are they all well read?_

**_Vhenadahl 23:12_ **

**_I had to sell some of my books in the move, so these are the ones I couldn’t be without_ **

**_Maybe you’ll see some things you want to try out?_ **

_Fen’harel 23:13_

_A fascinating collection! I believe I’ve read most of them, however._

_Which would you say is your favourite?_

**_Vhenadahl 23:13_ **

**_Out of the pile I showed you?_ **

**_Hmm, that’s a hard question._ **

_Fen’harel 23:14_

_Perhaps if you were to categorize them? Theme, era, culture etc._

**_Vhenadahl 23:17_ **

**_Lost spirits of Arlathan by Solas Fen_ **

**_Children of stone by Shaperate Geretek_ **

**_In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar by Brother Genitivi_ **

_Fen’harel 23:20_

_Interesting, I did not expect to find Genitivi among your favourites._

**_Vhenadahl 23:20_ **

**_His work is_ **

**_hmm_ **

**_I disagree with much of what he suggests, especially about races other than humans,_ **

**_And his bias is clear in his discussion on the Exalted Marches._ **

**_But no one has as comprehensive a collection of Thedasian history,_ **

**_and his work is a good starting point for further research with much more competent historians._ **

_Fen’harel 23:20_

_Yes, I can see the value in that._

**_Vhenadahl 23:21_ **

**_What about you?_ **

**_I’ve told you my favourite books, how about you? What are your favourites?_ **

_Fen’harel 23:26_

_I believe I’ve shown you my favourite books also._

**_Vhenadahl 23:27_ **

**_You showed me the expensive books you have._ **

_Fen’harel 23:27_

_Which are my favourite._

**_Vhenadahl 23:27_ **

**_This does nothing to dissuade my theory you're some fancy secret millionaire._ **

_Fen'harel 23:27_

_Then I shall have to persuade you some other way._

_**Vhenadahl 23:28** _

**_👀_ **

_Fen'harel 23:28_

_Good night Vhen_

**_Vhenadahl 23:29_ **

**_Good night Fen_ **


End file.
